


June 2016 Ficlet Series

by GoldenBi



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Domestic, Ficlet Collection, Gay Panic, Godfather Harry, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Minor Violence, Trans Character, Trapped In A Closet, genderfluid!Draco, trans!Draco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-06
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-07-12 14:44:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 7,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7109734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldenBi/pseuds/GoldenBi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some Drarry ficlets for June 2016. So far featuring: Motorcycles, bloody noses, firewhiskey, godparent Harry, and Draco's Birthday! Hope to add every day for the month.. Starting a bit late. Should get better each day!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Motorcycle

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own any of these characters, they belong to JK Rowling.

Harry didn't know what happened, one moment he was being insulted by the arrogant prick named Draco Malfoy, and the next he was salivating at that very same Draco Malfoy leaned up against Sirius's motorcycle.

The bike he was rather familiar with, being attracted to Malfoy was certainly not. Okay, it may have been repressed within his conscious for many, many years, but still. Harry was sweating for Merlin's sake!

Draco was still smirking, presumably at the insult he made earlier that Harry had forgotten already... Something about his hair. But his long body was stretched out, his elbow propped against the handlebars, shirt pulling up not quite enough to expose skin but enough to make Harry want it to.

"You look good next to the bike, Malfoy," Harry said. Out fucking loud. Harry bit his tongue. Well, it was too late to take it back and it was true anyway, better stick to his supposed Gryffindor courage.

Draco looked taken aback, and like Harry had gone mental (which he had!). But, Draco was never one to reject a compliment, so he swung a leg over the leather seat and leaned into the bike. His thighs gripped the seat and his long fingers traced the handlebars.

Harry was a goner. His blood was boiling and surely his school nemesis riding his dead godfather's bike was not a turn-on? It was though, and Harry was walking towards the bike.

"Would you like to go for a ride, Malfoy?" Harry asked with a malicious grin.

Draco slide back in the seat, making much more room for Harry than a simple drive. "Show me what you can do, Potter."


	2. Hunger

Hunger, Draco supposed it was called, is what he felt for Potter.

At first maybe the hunger for fame and power of The-Boy-Who-Lived. For his chance to impress his father, even Lucius could not befriend Harry Potter… But, Draco had failed yet again.

Then hunger for Potter’s defeat, for his stupidity and luck to finally end. For his family’s prosperity, and hope for his own future lineage to be powerful and successful.

Then a hunger of desire, that flushed through him in random bursts, like when Potter would cast spells wandlessly without much thought, or when Potter tucked the Weasley girl’s hair back and Draco thought he might scream with rage.

Then, or maybe all along, hunger for more attention. More looks crossing the great hall, more fighting in the halls, more fists connecting to jaws. More, more, more.

More was not enough for his hunger, he craved so much of Potter that when the crunch of a nose was far too little, he touched him. He wiped away the blood with his index finger, rubbed it against his thumb. Then did it again, looking into Potter’s confused brilliant green eyes. Draco got up and walked away, not bothering to give himself an excuse. He knew that his face had given his desire away.

If Draco had been hungry until now, when he was kissing Potter he was ravenous. Pulling him closer with a tight leash on his obnoxiously curly hair, he needed more of him, needed all of him. And Potter wasn’t helping him, enabling Draco like this, biting Draco’s lips and pushing him against the wall.

And maybe it was hunger, too, that made him ask to go public. To out himself to the wizarding world, to out the man he loved as The-Man-Who-Lived-Twice-Who-Also-Dates-Confirmed-Death-Eaters. It was the hunger that Draco felt when watching Harry mingle with unworthy guests at Galas and fundraisers, hunger to be by his side and show the world how powerful Harry really was.

It was hunger for Harry when he knelt down to propose, hunger for all of Harry, forever. He wanted and wanted and wanted him, so endlessly that he could not bear to think of life without him. And it was fullness he felt when Harry stood among all his friends and declared his endless love for Draco.

Draco was infinitely full, brimming with love and endearment for the man whose glasses were sliding down his nose while avidly reading Teddy’s goodnight story. When he looked up at Draco a smile lit up his face, affection breaking across his tan features. “Would you like to read with us?” Harry asked.

Draco ran his hand through Harry’s hair, “No, I was wondering if you might join me for a late night snack, I’m feeling quite hungry today.”


	3. Happy Birthday Draco

“Draco,” someone whispered into the room, a light shining in from the doorway.

Draco’s insides heaved, nausea swelling in his throat. How much firewhiskey did he have last night?

“Draco? Are you okay?” a man. Someone familiar.

“Nuhh.. please, hangover potion..” He hoped the man was not a muggle, but he was desperate.

The man crept into the room, but Draco did not care for his quietness, only the potion being pulled from robes.

He grabbed at the bottle, uncorked it, and swallowed every drop. Coughing a bit, he gave the bottle back to the man, with calloused, strong hands.

He did not want to look up, the potion made him a bit unsteady.. Or, perhaps that was the alcohol.

“I suppose you had a good birthday then.” Teasing was not a hint to the identity of the man, all his friends teased him. But the generosity of it, the lack of purpose, was telling.

“Potter, why are you in my bedroom?” Draco asked, with as much effort as he could muster.

“Your bedroom? Well you would have to move in with me first…” he chuckled. It was a smooth sound, like it was well-oiled.

Draco looked at the sheets, red with snitches dancing on them. Dear lord, what happened to him last night!?

“Not possible, you kidnapped me,” Draco looked right into Harry’s eyes, noting that he was ready to go out, and he looked particularly nervous at the glare.

“Not sure if ‘Potter, please take me to your place and ravish me,’ is truly kidnapping,” Draco had the dignity to look horrified, and Harry continued, “and ‘Potter, you shall not take me home like this,’ would indicate that you did not want to go back to the manor.” Harry was confident in this answer, like he had practiced it. Probably so Draco would not think badly of him. So noble.

“Well, I’ve had my potion, I am ready to go now,” Draco said, reaching for the covers.

“Wait! Just, wait for me to leave first. I left clothes on the chair for you,” he pointed at some grey robes in the corner, “and I was just about to get breakfast for you-I mean, us.”

Draco felt it now. Or, perhaps he felt a lack of it. He was naked. “We didn’t-”

“No! You vomited, and tossed your clothes on the floor. You got into bed and fell asleep straightaway,” Harry seemed nervous.

“Is that all?” Draco was sure he was hiding something.

“You said a bit more before you fell asleep, but I swear on Merlin that nothing happened.”

He must of said something truly embarrassing that Potter could not say. He strained for an answer, but not one piece of last night remained intact after Pansy had brought the table a bottle of Firewhiskey.

“I don’t remember…” Draco began.

“It’s okay. It doesn’t matter…” Harry looked a bit disappointed.

Disappointment. What could Draco have said? That Harry was the best Quidditch player he’d ever seen? Or, that he was a truly powerful wizard? Or, that he actually liked muggles now? All of them could elicit disappointment in Potter if Draco renounced them sober.

“Wait. Why you? Where is Pansy? When did you find me? What did I say to you?” Draco would never forgive Pansy for abandoning him.

“Pansy is downstairs, so is Ron and Hermione, and Blaise. They didn’t want to leave you so they played exploding snap until they passed out.” Harry reached his hand to scratch behind his neck. “I arrived when the second bottle of Firewhiskey was just beginning,” Draco scrunched his nose in disgust, “And you said it was your birthday so I had to stay. You made the offer… enticing.”

“Enticing how?” Draco demanded, he was blushing, but intrigued. Whatever he had said drunk had made Potter stay.

“You said that you could make the Chosen One beg for it,” Harry admitted.

“And you stayed?”

“I did.”

“Merlin, I am-” Draco didn’t know how to finish, he was sorry? Harry would like that, but Draco tried to avoid those words. Ever since the trial he had been saying them to every witch and wizard in the country.

“I would. Beg,” Harry said, quietly but without a flicker of reluctance. “Malfoy, you are irritatingly gorgeous, and after a bottle of Firewhiskey, you are very entertaining. I think I might like to meet this new person… And if I have to beg..” Harry was next to him now, green eyes looking into Draco’s.

Draco was astounded. Perhaps alcohol did not ruin his birthday..

“Well,” Draco said coyly, “what are you waiting for?”


	4. Grieving with Enemies

The storm was drawing nearer, casting water in rivulets down the windows, shaking the trees with fervor. Malfoy sat stonily in his chair, outlined by the mayhem behind him. Harry was almost frightened.

Malfoy eyed him, Harry’s bright red robes were too cheerful for Malfoy’s deep black, and his face too childlike across from Malfoy’s sharp features.

“Malfoy,” Harry began, righting himself enough convince himself that he was a proper adult now, and that he need not be intimidated by Malfoy, who was perhaps the biggest prat in the universe.

“Potter, why don’t you sit down before you give me news of my father’s death?” Malfoy was cool, convincingly apathetic. Harry was put off, but ultimately, as always with Malfoy, suspicious.

“How did you-“ he said, huffing and sitting on a stiff chair across from Malfoy.

“We’re wizards, you prat. You’ve never heard of monitoring charms before?” He pointed to a tapestry in the corner, one that had pictures of the Malfoy family, beneath Draco’s he saw “Draco Lucius Malfoy” then “5 June 1980-“ it was obvious that his death date should come after, and looking above he could see today’s date next to Lucius. It seemed like a darker take on Molly Weasley’s clock.

“Malfoy,” Harry pulled his hand through his hair, “I am sorry for your loss.” It seemed like it was Harry’s fault that Lucius was there in the first place. Harry had been on the defense at Draco’s and Narcissa’s trials, but did not speak at Lucius’s. Ginny would never forgive him if he had defended the man who instigated her possession of Voldemort, not that it mattered now, she hadn’t spoken to him since the break-up.

Malfoy’s hair seemed like it was jumping off of his scalp. It was not mussed, especially compared to Harry’s bird nest, but it seemed to be standing on end. Malfoy’s eyes were particularly wild with the wind whipping behind him, and lightning illuminating his white-blond hair every few minutes.

“I don’t want your pity, Potter” if Harry hadn’t watched Draco all these years, very obsessively, than he might have missed the despair in the lilt of his voice, or the clench of his left fist, or the heaviness of his shoulders.

Harry sighed, and got to his feet. The disappointment seemed to roll off of Malfoy, cool and final, like Harry had made an irreversible decision. But then Harry stepped closer to him and Malfoy sank back in his seat. His hands came up to his chest, as if Harry had all the power to break him in that moment, and all he had to defend himself was his hands clutching his heart.

Harry gently wrapped his hand around Malfoy’s and offered what he could, “I don’t want to leave you alone on a night like this, you deserve more.” Harry meant that. Malfoy may be the biggest prat in the world, but everyone deserved someone to comfort them when they were grieving.

Malfoy broke, a choked sob cracking through his mask, a chest pounding against their clasped hands. Harry used his other hand to rub down his back, comforting Malfoy without having to use awkward words.

“Thank you.” Malfoy said, looking out into the storm, so quiet Harry didn’t know if he was talking to him. Harry stayed.


	5. Teddy’s Bath

“Harry?” Draco heard from a voice at the other side of the bed. He propped himself up on an elbow and looked at the child as best he could in the dim light.

“Teddy? What is it?” Draco answered, concern welling within him. 

“I-I don’t want to say. Could I just wake Harry?” Teddy answered, stepping toward Harry. 

“No, Teddy, let him sleep. He hurt himself at work today, remember?” Draco knew Harry was fully healed, thanks to his potion, but he still needed rest. 

“Oh.” Teddy answered, and then came a small sob. 

Draco pulled back the covers and walked over to Teddy, kneeling in front of him. 

“Did you have a bad dream, Teddy?” he nodded. 

“Harry was hurt and he didn’t come home, and I,” Teddy cried harder, “I had an accident.” 

Draco could smell that now, but living with Harry these past few months taught him how to handle a mess. 

“Well that’s nothing a quick scourgify and a bath can’t fix,” Draco smiled. He got to his feet and cast a scourgify on Teddy, then held out his hand. 

Teddy took it and they walked to Teddy’s bedroom, and cleaned up as much as he knew how. “Bathtime?”

Teddy nodded and Draco drew the bath. He had never given Teddy a bath before, not even on Harry’s latest nights. Draco had always heard squealing and laughter coming from the bath before Harry tucked Teddy in. 

Teddy didn’t mind, though, and stripped down and plopped in the bath. 

“What do you and Harry usually talk about when you have your bath?” Draco asked to the now-blonde child who was dumping the whole jar of bubbles into the bath. 

“We talk about adventures! Dragons and quidditch and ghouls!” Harry definitely had enough stories for dozens of lifetimes. 

“Is there anything you want me to tell you about?” Draco was nervous for this answer. Teddy may be a distant relative, but they hadn’t connected like Harry and Teddy did. The two of them seemed to have mastered legilimency the way they acted. 

“Well, I want to know about my grandma, and her sister. Harry says she is your mom, but he won’t say why they are mad at each other, and I said it’s silly but Harry still won’t tell me.” It seemed that Harry didn’t tell Teddy everything. 

“Maybe Harry doesn’t want you to know, Teddy” Draco didn’t want to impose of Harry’s parenting, even if it was Teddy’s family too. 

“He said you would tell me when you are ready,” Teddy popped a bubble bigger than his head, “Are you ready yet?”

Draco wasn’t sure he was ready to discuss pureblood ideology with an eight-year-old, but he had lived it for his entire life. It might be a relief to tell his whole story, explain why he was the way he was. 

And maybe, he would have his own story time with Teddy. 

“The House of Black is a very old family...” Draco began.


	6. Healing

They say your minds changes after trauma. Draco, however much the wizarding world chose to ignore it, had been traumatized. A monster and his cruel followers had taken everything from his family, made his home the beacon of hate and revulsion, and Draco had needed some time to find himself.

Therapy was not a choice, not for Draco. He didn’t want to explain himself until he understood himself. He needed control, he needed peace.

He found a group, or maybe the group had found him, as he walked through a park near his new home (far away from the Monster’s Manor, as he now referred to it as). There was a group of people sitting in the grass, poised and relaxed. They looked like royalty, sitting with confidence and pleasure, but not in a way that they would try to control him. He supposed, from their peaceful nature, that they reigned over themselves and had control of their minds.

And that is how Draco began meditation. He did it every day, usually for 50 minutes, but sometimes less or more, depending on what he needed that day. And he became softer towards the muggle around him, he became stronger in his new self, and he became hopeful.

Until Potter found him meditating in his office. Draco got off work at precisely 5pm and needed to meditate between work and a meeting with Potter, as Potter was his probation officer. But, as usual, Potter had gotten the time wrong and caught Draco sitting on the floor of his office with incense burning in the corner.

Draco moved to get up, but Potter sat next to him and mirrored his position. Draco started to speak, but Potter closed his eyes as an obvious way to cut him off.

Draco huffed, but figured that he should just meditate long enough that Potter got antsy and asked what the hell Draco was doing.

At the end of the hour, though, he hadn’t moved, meanwhile Draco was sweaty and overwhelmed with the fact that Potter knew his secret now.

“Potter.”

“Yes?” Potter asked slowly, with a dazed look to his features.

“I’m sorry, I thought our meeting was at 6:00..” Draco knew he had been right-he was never wrong.

“No, no.. Actually, I wanted to come a bit early to ask if you wanted to go to dinner.” Harry was still calm, but was holding his breath.

“Is there a change in my probation? Did I do something wrong? Who are we meeting at dinner?” Draco didn’t want to be lured to a meeting with the Minister.

“No, actually, I wanted to celebrate. I asked the Minister if you could be released from probation and he agreed, I have the letter right here,” Harry pulled out a parchment from his robes.

Draco smiled brilliantly at Potter.

“See, I told him how you have been talking about your muggle friends and have been so calm, but now I know your secret,” Potter was smiling kindly, “meditation."

“Well, you might think it’s stupid, Potter, but I find that it requires-“ Potter was laughing, “what?"

“I’ve been meditating for a few months now, Aurors are required to go to therapy or alternative mind-healing like meditation, and I chose meditation.” So Harry was familiar.

“And you like it?” Draco bit his lip.

“It’s changed my life.” Potter looked past Draco, like he was remembering something important.

“Well, perhaps that is something we can discuss over dinner. Your treat?” Draco was ready to hear more, and if he had to enjoy a meal with Potter, then so be it.

“Absolutely.”


	7. Coming out of the closet?

Malfoy pulled him into the closet and shot five different protective and locking spells at the door in quick succession. 

“Do you think those will hold them off?” Harry asked aloud, knowing that they wouldn’t. 

“Only if they have studied locking charms since they were eleven.” Malfoy was smug. “Afraid of being in the dark with me?”

Harry was, in fact, very afraid of being in a small space with Draco Malfoy. Ever since he had come to the DMLE, Malfoy had been slowly enticing Harry. Malfoy was a goddamn flirt, and Harry-as a straight man-should have been able to ignore him. 

But he couldn’t, Malfoy would be promising “a long, hard night’s work,” and Harry would feel the innuendo creep up into his brain. Which would inevitably lead him to long, hard nights fantasizing about golden-blonde women and sweat-sheened bodies... 

Malfoy’s comments even had him changing up his fantasies, once Malfoy told Harry’s secretary that his arse was quite sore from the night before, and Harry had locked his office to dream up some wild images of ... Well, he’d rather not get worked up while another man was in the same space. 

“Malfoy, stop flirting, this is serious!” Harry whispered. 

“Flirting? I was only pointing out that you are practically shaking...” Malfoy was nearly laughing as he spelled a candle to light up the closet. 

Harry did not appreciate being laughed at, “Oh come on Malfoy, you flirt all the time.. it’s not unreasonable”

“Sure, yes, on my own time, I hardly think I would flirt at work,” Malfoy shook his head. 

“What about when you were talking to Nott about ‘a long, hard night’ last month?” Harry demanded, leaning against the wall of the closet. 

“You thought that was-” Harry kicked him in the shin, “-fuck! Okay, I was telling him about the raid we planned for the night. Is that all?”

“What about Fiona last week, with your arse being sore from the night before?” Harry would be able to come up with plenty of examples, Harry always had a memorable night afterword.

“Honestly, Potter, I had tickets to the Bulgarian match and I had to sit on the horrible stadium seating..” Malfoy shivered and wrinkled his nose. 

Harry was gripping his wand. This wasn’t right, he hadn’t fantasized for nothing. There was something going on.

“Unless,” Malfoy began. Here it was, he was going to tell the truth! “You want me to be flirting, Potter.” 

Harry recoiled, “No!” 

Malfoy smirked, and braced one arm on Harry’s side of the wall. “Are you sure you haven’t just been hearing what you wanted to hear all this time?”

Harry was getting really hot, his pulse was racing. 

Of course he would be getting worked up, these were accusations! “Malfoy..”

Malfoy sauntered forward, closing up the space between them. Harry looked to the ceiling, but inhaled Malfoy’s scent, not sweet like he was expecting (expecting? when did he think about this before?) but like broom polish and ink. 

Harry placed one hand on Malfoy’s hip to push him away, but his hand just gripped him and brought him closer. 

“I’m awfully confused, Malfoy” Harry’s wand drooped and his eyes caught on Malfoy’s lips. 

“Let me try to clear things up,” and Malfoy brought his lips up to Harry’s. 

Harry closed the distance without really meaning to, but here he was, and oh god was Malfoy good at this. 

All that flirting really paid off.


	8. Draco attempts to be a morning person

Harry was always awake first. Maybe it was the Dursley's demand for him to make breakfast or the grueling past schedule from being an auror, or possibly because Draco couldn't care less about that morning's were the most pleasant time of day. He couldn't know that, he always slept through them ("you're right Potter, mornings are the best time of day, TO SLEEP!! Now get the fuck out.")

Today, though, Draco was out of bed. Harry rolled over to look at Draco and his sleep-softened features, but he was gone. 

Perhaps working as an auror for a few years taught him a few things, because he was up and whispering homonium revelio in less than a second. 

Someone was in the kitchen. Draco was never in the kitchen ("that's why there are houses, Potter") so Harry gripped his wand tighter. 

He did a muffliato on himself so that the creaky stairs wouldn't reveal him and descended on the kidnapper.

It was not unreasonable that someone would take him, Draco and Harry had death threats sent to them every day about Draco's demise. Something about the hero of the wizarding world dating a former death eater was very upsetting to the wizarding world.

Finally reaching the bottom he quickly tip-toed to the kitchen and heard a very angry string of expletives.

And he stepped into the kitchen with his wand raised to find-

Draco. Draco covered in flour and strawberries? 

Harry burst out laughing. 

Draco's head shot up and he dropped the bowl of -was that water?- on the ground. 

"Oh Merlin, I've ruined everything" Draco's shoulders slumped and he slunk to a stool nearby. 

"Draco, babe, what are you doing?" Harry asked with tears of laughter. It was too precious for him to handle. Harry walked up to Draco and laced their hands together. 

"I was trying to.. be romantic?" Draco looked nervous, as if Harry would shout about the mess.

Harry picked a strawberry off Draco's shoulder and popped it in his mouth. Unfortunately, strawberry's covered in flour is truly awful and his reassuring smile quickly turned into a grimace. 

"I'm so sorry, I was planning a nice breakfast and a trip to take Teddy to the mountains.." Draco was hanging his head.

Harry reached out and pulled Draco's face toward his, "the day's not ruined just yet, let me just finish where you left off.." Harry looked around at the exploded flour and broken mixing bowl, "or maybe we can start over together."

"That is exactly what I was thinking," Draco was reaching into the drawer next to him. "Harry Potter, will you marry me?"


	9. Redemption (m)arc

"A tattoo," Harry says, with deep green eyes and a soft smile, "is a reminder of where you have been."

"But-" Draco begins.

"Even if it was a bad place, a bad time, a bad decision, it is a reminder that it was who you were AT THE TIME. And if you hate it, it shows that you've grown." Harry was staring very intently at Draco, making sure Draco knew he meant every word if it.

"Are we talking about my dark mark or your Hungarian Horntail?" Draco smirked. 

"Both." Harry laughed and then looked back at Draco. 

"All of you is important, even your past. I don't know how I could have fallen in love with any one else but this-" he gestured to all of Draco, "-Draco, with a past and a present, and a future."

"When did you get so wise, Potter?" Draco was genuinely curious, because just this morning Harry walked into a door, twice. 

"I have my moments" he said with a grin.

"Yes you do," Draco said, leaning in for a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's so short, had to take my weekly immunosuppressants and I always get really exhausted after that. Tomorrow should be better!


	10. Emerald dress

On their fourth date, Draco wore a dress and makeup to meet Harry. They were a bit nervous, as they hadn't really brought up being genderfluid with Harry yet. They were so angry, all the time, with having to do things the right way and for once they just wanted to come out and have someone accept it without question. 

So, they stood at the door, and as Harry's door started to open they panicked a little. Harry looked at Draco, their emerald dress, and gold eyeliner, and he was definitely surprised. 

Panic swelled in Draco, "I'm sorry-"

"You look beautiful Draco," Harry said, eyes sweeping appreciatively across Draco's bare shoulders and down their frame. "...If Draco is okay?"

"Draco is fine, so is they and them.." Harry nodded, "Do you hate it?" Draco could tell that Harry really liked their look, but he wanted to know what Harry was thinking. 

Harry suddenly pulled on Draco's hand, tugging them forward, "I love it."

Harry was leaning in for a kiss, and Draco pushed him back. "Not yet! I don't want to mess up my makeup before we even go out."

Harry laughed to himself, "Well, I'll grab my coat then"


	11. The only one..

“Potter is disgusting,” Draco began and Pansy sighed. They were going to be late to dinner if he went on another one of his Potter rants. “Honestly, if I could I would-”

“Stick him in the dungeons? Hex him to oblivion? Kill his stupid owl?” admittedly, Draco had never said that last one, but the others were fairly frequent, and really, the look of betrayal he was giving her right now was unwarranted. 

Draco paled, and Pansy was furious. “What? You’ve said this a million times before! Are you the only one who is allowed to insult Potter?” She demanded. 

“Yes! I am. Among other things.” Draco snapped, “I am _the only one._ ” Draco’s eyes went a little mad, and he was staring right through her. 

“Among other things?” Pansy asked, Draco’s eyes blinked at her, and suddenly he was running out of the common room. 

“Wait! Draco what is wrong with you?” Pansy shouted at him, running through the corridors. 

She saw Draco turn a corner to the great hall, and she chased after him to see him sprawled on the floor. 

He was lying next to Potter of all people. They must have collided with each other. But Draco was moving closer to Potter. 

 _Among other things_.. Perhaps he meant to attack Potter? Pansy readied her wand for a duel. 

But, it never came. Draco leaned into Potter, and softly asked if he was alright. 

“Yes, what are you doing running through the castle?” Potter asked, concern in his eyes. 

“Look, Harry, I can’t do it. I can’t keep this a secret. I have far too many already..” Draco seemed like he was begging. Potter lifted his hand to brush Draco’s hair out of his face. “I know you want to protect me, but I can handle myself, just let-”

Potter pulled him into a kiss. Draco’s arms seemed to weaken, as he leaned more of his body onto Potter’s. Draco’s hands intertwined in Potter’s hair and Harry wrapped his arms around Draco. 

“I guess he isn’t quite so disgusting, Draco,” Pansy laughed. Draco lifted his head up, fear in his eyes. But her laugh was of amusement, and not hatred. Draco smiled, and as he aimed a hex at her, she added, “both of you are completely mad.” 


	12. Good luck

Draco’s lean body was still stretched across Harry’s small bed in Gryffindor tower when Harry came back from the showers. Draco was bathed in the morning sunlight, and had a soft smile on his face. Harry had asked him to come to his room last night to relieve some of his increasing worry about today’s quidditch match. 

They had definitely distracted each other from the anxiety of the match, but now Harry had a different problem at hand: getting Draco out of his room without anyone seeing. 

“Malfoy, hey,” Harry whispered gently, wet hair flopping in front of his eyes. 

A small stretch came with a groan of pleasure (that had Harry reminiscing about the night before) and Draco cracked his eyes open. Harry had a towel wrapped around his waist and he was still dripping from his shower. 

“Mmm, morning Potter.” Draco’s eyes traced Harry’s torso and jawline. 

“Malfoy, nobody is awake yet, maybe you can get out before anyone is even in the common room...” Harry whispered, although there were silencing charms all around his bed. 

Draco pouted, “You don’t want round... three, is it?” He pushed himself a little higher, so that the blanket draped over his middle, and exposed the rest of him. Harry started to get a little warm. 

“But, they might wake up, while.. you know,” Harry winced. He didn’t want to seem so prudish, his cheeks flushed. 

Draco slid his hands beneath the sheet, and leaned his head back, “I guess I’ll just,” a gasp, “take care of this and get out of here.” Draco was smirking, but Harry wasn’t watching his face. 

Harry continued to stare as he sat down on the bed, enchanted by Draco. Draco’s eyes were closed again, but not in slumber. His mouth was slightly open and his breathing got heavier. 

One of Draco’s hands maneuvered the blanket out of the way, and then instead of moving back to himself, tugged on Harry’s towel. 

“Allow me to give you some good luck, Potter,” and Harry was already climbing on top of him.


	13. Drarry goes Camping

"Fuck this," Draco said for the hundredth time that hour. "Why the FUCK do we have to set up a fucking tent like fucking muggles?" 

Harry groaned. It was the seventeenth time Draco had asked, and "for your probation" didn't seem to work the first fifteen times and "please stop talking" didn't work the last time (being silent also did not work on the seventh complaint either.) 

"Potter! We're not muggles, we're wizards. This is unnecessary hard labor. It's cruelty." Draco sat on the grass next to the stakes and mallet which he was supposed to be using to hold the tent down. 

Harry took a swig of water and headed toward Draco. "Want some?" he offered Draco a bottle. 

Draco glared at him, but took the water anyway. Harry sat cross-legged next to him.

"I know probation sucks. And this isn't what you're used to." Draco kept drinking his water, as the sunset dripped red on against his silhouette. Harry forced himself to ask what he had been questioning himself for the past few weeks, "But you know that I am like this-why did you demand to have me as your probation officer?"

"Because I know you, Potter." Draco said, like Harry was the one going crazy. 

"You know Ron" a withering look, "and you know Theo a hell of a lot better than me" Harry had thought about Ron and Theo after reading Draco's request, but ultimately he was glad he had Draco. Draco whined incessantly, but at least he didn't growl like some of his other parolees. In fact, Draco was entertaining when he wanted to be.

Draco capped the water bottle, tossed it aside, and leaned back on his hands. Harry skimmed Draco, his muggle clothes (a tshirt and jeans, just as advised by Harry) and if it was Draco or if everyone looked better in muggle clothes. 

"I knew that you would treat me right," Draco said softly. Harry looked at his face, Draco was looking at the sky and frowning, "I did things.. And I know I should be punished, but I still want to be safe.. And you," he glanced at Harry's scar "seem to know how to keep people safe."

Harry looked away. Sirius, Dobby, Remus, Fred flashed through his head and he squeezed his hands into fists. 

"You saved me from the fire. You thought I was worth saving." Draco was still speaking softly, as if he felt Harry's distress. 

"You ARE worth saving," Harry replied with conviction. 

Draco let out a breath, and Harry laid back on the grass.

"Do you know the constellations?" Harry asked.

Draco leaned back too, "Have you met my family? Of course I do." 

"Could you show me Sirius?" Harry asked.

"Canis major?" Draco asked skeptically.

"Yeah" 

"Yeah, I'd need to use magic though, you can't see it from here," Draco was unsure.

"Let's use some magic then," Harry said and handed Draco his wand, just like that. 

Draco could easily finish setting up the tent with Harry's wand, but instead he racked his brain for astrovisibility spells. 

They both watched as the sky melted into stars. 

"Thank you"


	14. Father's Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Single Harry raising Teddy

Sun wraps around Harry, cradling him into wakefulness. Blankets are twisted around him, and he stretches his legs out with a groan. He flops his hand over to the table next to the bed and feels the cool metal of his glasses. He shoves them on his face and blinks to focus on the window by his bed. It’s a clear, bright day, he decides that he needs to play quidditch today. 

A knock at the door startles him, and Teddy pops his head through the crack in the door. Ah, of course, Harry was used to Teddy being at Hogwarts, so he wasn’t expecting the fourteen-year-old to creep into Harry’s room like he used to when he was shorter than the doorknob. 

“Mornin’ Harry, didn’t mean to wake you,” Teddy said, pulling his hand through his soft brown hair that made him look so much like his father. 

“No, no, I’m up,” Harry sat up in his bed, “What’s up?" 

Teddy pulled at his sleeve, and leaned against the doorframe. “I was thinking-" his eyes looked past Harry, and he bit his lip. 

Suddenly, his hair darkened and he smiled, “I was thinking we could play quidditch! Just me and you." 

Harry was a bit surprised, but smiled, they hadn’t played a seeker’s game since last summer. “I was hoping you’d say that! I might be old, but I can still take you." 

“See you outside in five!” Teddy practically vibrated with excitement. 

\---

After a spectacular loss on Harry’s part, they went inside for lunch. Harry threw together some sandwiches and watched with disgust and envy of a teenager’s enormous appetite. Harry was only done with half of his sandwich when Teddy swallowed the last bite of his meal, which was three sandwiches and two slices of Molly’s summer apple pie. 

“Harry,” Teddy began with determination, “I wanted to talk to you about something…” 

Harry set down his sandwich and pushed his glasses back to look at Teddy properly, “Okay." 

“I know you never want me to say this to you, but I really want to. You mean a lot to me and, I know you’ve hard time of it… raising me and being a hero and,” Teddy’s blush panned to his arm hair, turning each strand pink. Harry grinned at Teddy, hoping that with encouragement Teddy could get out whatever he had to say. Teddy nodded, more to himself than Harry. 

Teddy reached in his pocket and pulled out a miniature book. He pulled out his wand and enlarged it to a normal size, and Harry realized it wasn’t a book at all, it was a photo album. 

“I wanted to say ‘Happy Father’s Day’ even though we don’t celebrate it,” and he was looking at the scrapbook. “I know you say that you’re not my dad, and that is true.” Harry sucked in his breath, and Teddy continued quickly, "But, you did raise me, and you treated me like a son, and I can’t help but to think that you deserve to be celebrated too.” Teddy peaked at Harry through his veil of deep black hair. 

Harry leaned against the memories of Teddy that flashed before his eyes: Harry laughing with Ron at Molly’s kitchen table only to see Teddy taking his first steps toward him after hearing his laugh, Teddy’s first fall off of a broom and the red-rimmed eyes he had until Harry demonstrated all the different ways he had fallen off his broom, sending Teddy off to Hogwarts and hiding his tears until he was on the train, going to a zoo and testing what animals he could replicate on his own body and laughing at the goose beak and alligator skin combination, Harry replying to Teddy’s letter (all O’s this year!!) with a howler that yelled “CONGRATULATIONS TEDDY! I AM SO PROUD OF YOU!” Teddy’s first quidditch match where he stunned two parents who claimed “Lupin is only on the team because The Boy Who Lived Twice raised him,” Harry sitting next to Teddy’s bed in the hospital wing after a fourth year quidditch match and crying after seeing his hair start to turn lavender after being limp and white, both of them visiting Teddy’s parents’ graves and Harry telling stories about Tonks clumsiness and his favorite of Lupin’s lessons, and they went on and on. 

Teddy was still peering at him, ready for the “You should be proud of your real father and mother,” that Harry might have said once or twice. 

“Thank you Teddy, I couldn’t be more happy to have you in my life,” Harry’s eyes sparkled with fondness. He pulled Teddy into a tight hug. 

They pulled apart, and Harry gave Teddy a pat on his shoulder. Both smiled and looked away to rub their eyes. Teddy sat back down. 

“Don’t thank me yet, you haven’t seen the awful pictures I have of you in this album,” Teddy flicked the book open. 

“Merlin! I never should have grown out my mustache… It’s my greatest shame…” Harry laughed, turning the page.


	15. One good coming out experience

When Draco was born, Narcissa thought she would name her beautiful (but very stubborn) baby after a fierce dragon, “so men would fear my ferocious daughter.”

When Draco was two, Narcissa noticed that her child was talkative and bossy, which made clothing a terrible beginning to the day, “No dress!” and “Hair is in my face!!”

Narcissa would complain as she gardened, “She always wants to dress like her father, never like me...” Still having trouble at age three, Narcissa was beginning to feel left out. She asked Lucius to take Draco on a vacation, just the two of them for “mother-daughter bonding”

Narcissa took Draco to all the best outfitters in Paris, and Draco would still choose masculine clothes, although all of them tended to be in Narcissa’s favorite colors (lavender, baby blue, and green). Satisfied that she was making a difference, she continued to buy clothes that Draco liked. 

When Draco was six, at the Malfoy’s annual Christmas party Narcissa overheard Draco tell Blaise Zabini that the playroom was for “boys only” so Pansy wasn’t allowed. 

Pansy cried, “But you’re a girl like me!”

Draco looked coldly at her, “I am not. I am a boy, and you’re not allowed!” 

Pansy cried again, and Narcissa picked her up and looked down at her child, “Draco, you said you are a boy, is that true?”

“Yes, mother.” He scrunched his nose, “I don’t know why, I just am,” Draco answered. 

Narcissa looked at Draco, all three and a half feet of stubborn Malfoy, “Well, I am sure your father will be delighted to know he has a first-born son.” Narcissa said with her lips forming a slight smile. 

Draco smiled and turned back to Blaise and said “See?” and commanded him to make a moat so girls couldn’t get in. 

Narcissa discussed with Lucius what she’d overheard, and how he must learn to adjust. Lucius felt a bit out of place, but he needed his child, whether daughter or son, to carry on the family name and legacy. He bought Draco a new watch and formal robes and Draco positively beamed. 

At fourteen, Draco’s favorite color was still lavendar, he still sometimes twirled around, tried on lipstick and sought motherly advice (his first period was quite a shock), but he was the best son Narcissa could ask for. 

At sixteen, Draco was home for summer. Narcissa sat down for tea, and reminisced about Draco’s childhood. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have named you Draco to scare men, now you are a man and might scare off the ladies!” 

“Well, mother, it’s not the ladies I’m worried about...”


	16. I'm sorry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> elements of child endangerment in this chapter, not intentional by the parents, but might be triggering!!

“I’m sorry” Draco sobbed, laying in front of the fireplace, where he had talked to the healer last. 

His shirt clung to his chest, his sleeves stained with snot and drool. His face was blotchy and red, and his eyes were staring into the fire - as if looking into the distance. 

Draco had left one of his potions on the counter while he cleaned up the dining room, and came back to Teddy laying on the floor and the potion on his face, hands, and legs. Draco immediately took him to St. Mungo’s and called Harry from there. 

After telling Harry what happened, Harry looked through him. Didn’t speak to him. 

Draco was losing both of his boys. 

His chest started heaving, and he went to the bathroom to vomit. He stood and clung to the railing along the wall. 

He held himself up to get to the hall, and grabbed a nurse, “Please update me on Teddy Lupin’s status, I am one of his legal guardians, I will be at number twelve Grimmauld place.” she nodded and left him. 

He practically fell into the fireplace after murmuring out his floo destination. He collapsed next to the grate and stayed there after two updates (“he is stable but he has major damage to his face and stomach,” and “he’s not awake yet, but his color has returned.”)

“Draco?” his vision swam, he wiped a crusty sleeve over his face and looked toward the voice. Harry was kneeling next to him, “Merlin, are you okay?”

Draco shook his head, he couldn’t answer. 

“Teddy is awake, Andromeda is playing dinosaurs with him at St. Mungo’s. I came to find you…” Harry’s eyes welled with concern behind his glasses. 

Draco propped himself up and repeated his mantra from the past seven hours “I’m sorry,” his voice cracked. 

“Oh, Draco, he’s okay. He doesn’t even have a scar.. Not even the morphed ones he does after seeing you in your boxers…” Harry was stroking his back and holding him very close. 

“It seems we both tend to overreact around Teddy. The first time he got a mosquito bite I took him to St. Mungo’s.” Draco let out a shaky laugh. 

“It’s different..” Draco had left out a very dangerous potion around a four year old! It was stupid and unforgivable, “I am a terrible parent.”

“No, you’re not. We all make mistakes, and I can guarantee it won’t happen again, will it?” Harry stood up and offered Draco his hand. 

“No, definitely not.” Draco wiped his nose. 

“Let’s go take a shower and see our little warrior..” Harry said, leading them to the bathroom, “he’s been asking to see his Draco.”

Draco let out a sigh of relief and clutched his hand in Harry’s.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! My tumblr is goldenbi.tumblr.com, and I will probably post there first with updates under #Daily Writing Challenge.


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